By Alton Roederer
It must have been raining because the floor at Rockbar was stickier than usual that night. I’m not usually the dive bar type, let alone a bear bar, but I never miss their monthly grommr night.
I was chatting by the stage with my friend Dan (he was “Jump86” back in the BeefyFrat days, in case you know him) when I saw Hunter for the first time. He was paying the sassy doorman his $5 cover, and he was striking: 6’3”, probably 225lb of lean muscle and a killer smile. He was clean-shaven and had the perfect amount of shag to his hair, with just enough for two grabbable fistfulls in the back.
He caught my eye but made his way to the bar. Was he a celebrity? Pro body builder? Something about his stride showed that he knew power, and yet in here he was a fish out of water.
Dan caught my stare. “Oh pick your jaw back up, he’s either straight or hasn’t figured out yet that this is a bear bar. Either way he’ll be gone in five minutes” Dan said.
I had always been jealous of Dan- wholesome midwestern guy with a heart of gold and a husband at home blowing up like a cartoon. Dan only met Derek three years ago but had already doubled his weight and wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. I was happy for them, but it left me wondering what Dan had that I was missing. After all, Dan would be the first to admit that I was better looking.
“Oh, just let me be happy for once!” I said, only half suceeding at sounding like a joke. I heard Dan snort as I made a beeline for the bar.
“You need directions somewhere?” I said to the mysterious visitor, cutting straight to the chase.
He threw his head back and chuckled. “What, you don’t think I blend in with this crowd?”
“I’m Nick” I stuck my hand out.
“Hunter.” Strong handshake.
“So really, why are you here? I’ve never seen you around” I said.
“I love bears!” Hunter said, unconvincingly. I let the statement hang in the air for a bit. His smile dropped. “Sorry man, I’m not a good actor am I?” he said.
The bartender plopped down Hunter’s beer and I pointed mine toward the side door. This stud had 4 inches on me but now he was following me around. We slipped outside onto Christopher Street, under the awning where it was quiet. Nobody was smoking, so we could talk.
And I got the feeling that talking was exactly what he wanted to do. Something was going on here but I didn’t want to railroad him with questions (was he here on a dare? No, it seemed more personal. He probably just came out).
We chatted about where we were from and the places we like in the city. Easy banter; we clicked. But after 10 minutes there was a lull in the small talk.
“So.. you doing ok?” I said.
“Yeah, it’s just..” he sighed and looked down. Fuck he was cute.
“Sorry, I just met you. But you asked, so here it goes. I play rugby. That’s actually my career; my first pro team was the Breakers out in San Diego. Last year I got drafted out here to New York and my last season was ok, but not great. I’ve always played Wing but if they’re going to keep me, next season I have to play Forward.”
“Cool, so switching it up?” I said.
Hunter laughed, probably the first time he had breathed in a bit. “You don’t know anything about rugby, do you?” That smile again.
“Sorry,” I said. Not sorry.
“It’s fine,” he said, “neither did any of the guys I’ve ever dated.” (Was he implying interest?) “Basically, it’s like being a Quarterback in football and having your coach tell you to come back next season as a Linebacker.”
I only half understood. Sorry guys, I’m a strong athlete but I only know the sports I play and I was never much for sports that require coordination.
Hunter could tell. “You’re cute,” he said. He said it in the way that only a guy can when he knows he’s a 10.
He looked down and bit his tounge. “Soo.. this means I’m about 70 pounds underweight to play Forward.”
“OHH” I said, a little too loud and a little buzzed. Everything made sense now.
“Two guys on my team last year were in the same boat. They had the offseason to bulk up to the size of a Forward. One didn’t make the cut but the other- he got huge. If I could grow only half as much as he did I’d be fine. He went online and found this chick who was into helping him get big. She’s a Feedist.”
“Feeder” I said. Now I was the expert. I looked to the side, already going into work mode and thinking through what his meal plan would look like. “How much time do you have?”
“6 months.”
“And you’re.. what, 6’4”, 230?”
“Jesus, you guys really are another breed. 6’3”, 225. How’d you know that?” I gave him a look that would stop him from ever again doubting my expertise. “What split are you going for?”
“Split?” he said.
“Muscle vs. fat”.
“Oh. Well, I’d prefer all muscle, really. I’ve always been an athlete and so fat is..”
“Guys can’t really gain more than one pound of muscle in a week. Ok maybe one and a half for someone like you.” He swallowed and listened like I was a doctor giving a diagnosis.
“So six months, realistic max you can put on is 30lb muscle. And that’s a very dirty bulk so we’re - sorry, you’re - realistically going for one-to-one fat-to-muscle.”
He was still staring like a puppy in trouble. But he hadn’t flinched at my freudian slip.
I thought. “So that’s just over 10lb a month, sustained. It’s doable if you’re extremely focused. But this is your full time job, right?”
He nodded, half pouting. “So, you’re like.. actually into guys doing that?”
*****
PART 2
“Yikes, they’re all twinks” I said. I was scrolling through pictures he pulled up on facebook of his exes. We were back at his place now and several beers further in to the evening.
I’m used to being the butch one, but this apartment was a total man cave bachelor pad. Atheltic gear everywhere. I’m not surprised when a gay guy owns dozens of pairs of shoes, but most of his were cletes.
I had my feet up on his couch, perusing his exes on his laptop. He was laying back on the couch, tossing a football, too tired to be nervous any more. “I can’t believe I’m letting you look at them” he chuckled.
He swatted the football into his chest and sat up. “Show me the guys you like”, he nodded at the laptop.
“Ohhhh no, you’re a civilian. You’ll go blind.”
“What’s a civilian?”
“You’re not into feeding or gaining; you’re normal. God, it’s actually really weird talking to you right now; I’ve never talked so openly about feeding guys with a civilian before. It’s like a straight guy asking me if sex hurts.”
A devious smirk spread across his face. “Show me”. I felt the power shifting.
Fuck it, I thought. I logged into grommr and clicked on my favorites. He leaned in next to me and studied them for a while. “Well. You definitely have a type, that’s for sure.”
“I do. Usually clean cut, a bit taller than me, in the 300’s but definitely with a lot of muscle under there.”
“So, me. I’m your type?” He was doing that tounge biting thing again.
“Hell no, skinny bitch. My type is what you *will* be.”
That caught him off guard, but I think he liked it. He lifted up his shirt to reveal the finest washboard abs any man in 36” jeans has ever had. “So, that doesn’t do anything for you?” I could tell he found my disinterest refreshing.
“It’s.. cute?” I teased. He was loving this. “But I’d take a nice keg over a six pack any day.”
He sat there with both hands on his abs, glancing at the bellies on the screen and then back at his abs. Back and forth. Then met my eyes. “Spend the night. Please.”
*****
PART 3
No, we didn’t get it on. Frankly I knew even then there was a chance that Hunter was husband potential and I didn’t want to get sloppy; we were both pretty buzzed.
And it didn’t even matter; Hunter was such a good cuddler. 99% of the time I’m big spoon, but his extra inches in height just fit perfectly around me. I slept like a baby.
When the sunlight came in, I woke up to really see the room for the first time. Football jerseys everywhere, piles of rugby shorts, a lacrosse stick. Ugh, such a bro.
I must’ve stirred because he grunted and woke up. He stretched, yawned and then pounced on me. Hunter may be a rugby god, but I swear he was a golden retriever in a past life. He burrowed his face in my neck, tickling me but I couldn’t get away because he was squeezing me tight. My god, his arms are the size of my legs, and I’m pretty fit.
“I’m really glad you stayed over” he said as he rolled over, still not releasing me. “Listen, there’s something I wanted to say last night, but I wanted to wait until we’re sober.”
“Oh?” I questioned.
“Look, you grommr guys, you’re definitely into some specific stuff, but it’s not actually THAT weird. At least not as weird as you make it out to be. You call me a civilian so I guess I can’t judge, but I really don’t get why you’re all so secretive.”
That did it. I was so sold on him. I wanted to have all his babies, and I’m a top. He was right, I really could be more out- should be. I had spent all of last night helping him feel more comfortable, but now he was doing the same for me.
I didn’t know what to do, so I just took a leap of faith and kissed him. The kind of passionate, sloppy, awesome kiss where you don’t even care about morning breath any more. I grabbed the back of his head, that luscious, grippable hair and pulled him into me. The kiss was electric, we both went into pure animal instinct mode.
I rolled him over and then he rolled me back, but we got somewhere stuck in between and either didn’t notice or care, each just attacking each other with our toungues. I was hanging onto his luscious bubble butt for dear life when I realized he was doing the same to me. I felt a finger tap at my back door and said “Woah, woah buddy, what’s that?”
“Wait.. you’re? You’re a top too?”
Oh shit. What’re the chances? I laughed. “Really?”
“Really” Hunter said. “I’ve actually never bottomed before.”
I was lying on my back with both hands behind my head. “Sorry, I just assume everyone’s a bottom, it’s a problem. Well, we’re already making you fat, you can try some other new stuff too.”
I had gotten too smug. He flashed that killer smirk again. “Oh no, buddy. If I’m going to try something new, then you’re going to transform too. It’s only fair. Besides, I’ve already got two fingers in and you don’t seem to mind.”
I looked down. Busted. Not only did I not notice (or rather, didn’t mind) his second finger slipping in, but my heavy boner was at full attention and drizzling precum.
“Now,” he said, resting my ankle on his shoulder while lubing himself up, “I bet you’ve got a lot to teach me about how to get big.” He leaned forward to kiss me, and I could feel his head poking at me. “But I think I might be able to teach you a thing or two as well.” He nibbled and kissed all over my neck and my brain just powered down. I could feel pressure “down there” but the sensations all over my neck were overwhelming. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.
After a minute I tried to say something but it was just gibberish. He pulled up to smother me with another kiss, probably to shut me up, and that’s when I realized he was in me. “See how that works, babe? You’re already taking it like a champ.” he winked. So cocky.
I tried to talk again but there was nothing to say. This was uncharted territory for me. He leaned back and closed his eyes to focus. His whole body rippled with each thrust. His body was so defined I could see muscles that I’m pretty sure other people don’t have. It was as if he transmitted his intensity straight into me, and all I could do was gulp and remember to breathe. There was something so comfortable, so natural about taking him there in his sunny bedroom that morning. It felt right.
He opened his eyes and studied me, still thrusting. I felt so exposed - not becuase my legs were in the air and a guy was in me for the first time since college- but because I could tell he was studying me, figuring out exactly what I loved, which speed, which angle. He probably already knew more than me.
Hunter lowered himself down again to lean in and kiss me. Just before he reached my lips, when I was embarrasingly already eyes closed and tounge at the ready, he stopped. “So you’re gunna make me big, aren’t you?” I nodded, instantly hardening at the idea. My dick twitched, but so did my ass- I forgot about that how that works. “Woah, someone likes that idea, huh?” he smirked. I love that he could feel me twich on his dick. Two boys can’t get any closer than that.
“Well listen, Nick. We may have a problem then..” he kept thrusting. This was a new side of him.. coming from a dark place. “Cause if I get a big gut..” another twitch “then one day there’s not going to be enough space for me to pop up your legs and fuck you like this.”
That was it. I exploded. Both my cock and my brain. The first squirt sailed straight over my head and hit the wall. Hunter saw that and rammed all 9 inches deep into my guts and pumped out the rest of my load. I cum pretty heavy as it is, but this one took more than a full minute and by the time I was done, all the squirts on my chest had joined into one big pool covering my whole chest.
Hunter surveyed the mess I had made and looked very satisfied with himself. “Good job, buddy!” he said as he held his arm out for a fist bump.
I gasped for air. “You’re a monster” I grunted, only half joking. He chuckled and smothered me with another distracting kiss as he pulled out of me.
I lay on the bed assessing the situation, confirming that my legs still worked and trying to remember my name. Hunter was already up. “You’re not going to cum?” I asked.
“Nope”, he said as he snapped shut the elastic band on his Under Armour compression shorts, tucking away his shrinking boner. “I’m a pleaser top” he said, handing me a towel. “We don’t need to get off; what I’m into is seeing you explode while you’re under me.”
I tried to wrap my head around it. “Hey-“ he stopped me, “you’re into your thing, and I’m into mine.”
Fair enough. “You’re making me big and I’m gunna make you.. a big ‘ol power bottom.” He grabbed my nose like a little kid. “But I think you’re gunna enjoy yourself” he said, raising his eyebrows at the embarrasingly large pool of cum in my chest.
*****
PART 4
I joined him in the shower. It was the first time that I ever really got to inspect his body. Fuck, pro athletes really are like machines. His ass. It was almost like a separate entity, that just seemed to follow him around. It was so perky it didn’t jut straight out like most fit guys; it actually pointed *up* a bit.
I ran my hands over it and closed my eyes. “Heh, you like that don’t you?” he said.
I responded with my fingers. He turned around and planted his tounge in my throat. I could feel a soapy hand bringing my dick back to life.
“So.. you came right when I talked about getting big. That sex was hot, but what got you off was.. fat?”
“Haha, yup. That’s my thing.”
He thought about it for a second, then took a half step back, still gripping my cock. “Show me where I’ll grow.”
I studied his physique. I’ve got an eye for telling if a guy’s going to be an apple or a pear, even when he’s still ripped.
I traced my finger as I went from top to bottom. “Your neck.. it’s going to get even thicker as your shoulders develop.” I felt his other hand creeping towards my hole again.
“Arms are going to get even bigger, if that’s humanly possible. You’ll lose definition, but it’ll look good. Masculine.”
“Your pecs are going to fill out big time. Fat is going to build up there, but they won’t look soft, they’re way too strong.” I slid one of my fingers down to his abs, while he slipped another of his fingers in me, the other hand still methodically stroking my cock as he maintained perfect eye contact.
“Then this.. this is going to be a gut. Not in the first 30 pounds. But after 50.. it’s going to be a pot, sticking straight out. This belly button..” I circled my finger around the edges of his tiny belly button as his three fingers did the same circle with my ass. “..it’s going to get deeper and wider.”
“And these obliques.. they’re going to turn into an overhang. One day, 40 pounds in, you’ll feel a cold sting right here and you’ll realize it’s your gut hitting your belt buckle for the first time.” He started jacking harder.
“These cut sides here, after 80 pounds, they’re going to be big love handles, each about the size of a loaf of bread.”
“And this ass..” I gripped it as he gripped mine from the inside. “It’s going to be a fucking shelf. You’ll never wear dress pants again. Long tee shirts will just bunch up on top of it and-”
Without warning, I came even harder than I had the last time. The orgasm was so strong I lost my balance, but Hunter gripped me like he had expected me to fall. He held me as I choked and seized and twitched as my dick vomited a heavy load on all four walls of the shower.
When it finally ended, I gasped for air. “What the fuck was that?!”
Hunter nestled my head into his perfect chest and kissed the top of my head.
“Found your prostate, babe!” He slapped by butt and turned around to wash himself off.
*****
PART 5
I was towelling off and found him in the kitchen. He was preparing an omellette. He looked at the eggs and back at me. “Sorry, they’re, uh.. just egg whites. I guess I’m supposed to be eating boxes of donuts or something?”
“Common misconception” I corrected. “If you ate a ton of sugar, you’d feel like shit and never make it. When you’re ready, we’ll make you an 8-meal a day a plan that’s full of variety and very high in fat and complex carbs.”
“You sound like the team dietician” he chuckled. “I took some classes back in college” I said.
Hunter paused. “But what do you mean, ‘when I’m ready’? Hitting 300 is my job right now. My career is at stake.”
Oh right. I didn’t have to ease into it; growing too fast wasn’t going to scare Hunter off.
“Allright. Then let’s do this. Hand me your phone.” While he finished breakfast, I downloaded my favorite calorie counting app on his phone and linked our accounts.
“This app helps you track what you’ve eaten in a day. I can log in from my phone, check your progress, and send you meal plans. All the food that I send is available to order on the seamless app. We can join those accounts too so you don’t even have to order; I’ll just have stuff sent here. All you have to do is answer the door and eat.”
“Impressive”, Hunter said. He seemed to love that idea. Gainer or not, who wouldn’t want to hang out all day and just have food brought to them?
“Do not EVER”, I cautioned, “lie about having eaten something that you didn’t. I will always be assigning you more food than you could possibly eat, so it’s critical that we’re transparent about how far you got each day. Every week when I weigh you in, I download the week’s food data to excel and plot how much your capacity is growing and which foods are packing the most mass on you.”
“Ok. Agreed. I wouldn’t want to mess up your process.”
We spent the rest of our breakfast talking over his food preferences. He had no allergies, thank god. But also not much of a sweet tooth (how is that possible?) Fortunately, he’s a natural grazer. But he’s used to eating big for building muscle mass, even if that was previously just with lean protein.
I said I’d need an hour to put together his meal plan for the first week. Perfect, he said- he’ll go lift at the gym, just across the street. While he was out, I ordered a case of Black Hole appetite supplements to be delivered the next day, and three large burritos on seamless for Hunter’s after-gym snack.
Then I got to work reviewing what he said he ate in a normal day and counting up the calories to estimate his current capacity. It wasn’t bad; he seemed to be consistently hitting 5,000 to 5,500 calories in a day. His activity levels are super high, but I’ll settle for that because at least he already knows how to eat big.
All I needed to do in those first weeks was cut his cardio way back, get him lifting low and slow at the gym, and then just make sure that each day he would eat 50 calories more than the last day, without fail.
I sat there typing away, excited to be growing another guy again. Hunter sure was a keeper.